Do You Wanna Hide a Body?
by Didja-Misme
Summary: "Do you wanna hide a body? It doesn't have to be in one piece..." Moriarty, uncharacteristically comforts Moran after a fight. Fluffy MorMor One-Shot. And James sings, so...


Fighting was inevitable between any flatmates. Between money and messes, bills and business, cleaning and courting, even the best of roommates found themselves arguing over the most trivial of matters. No one under a shared roof was exempt from these rules.

Yet, Sebastian Moran knew he probably had _the _worst flatmate. Ever. No argue.

Their "money and messes" consisted of bank robber, and blood stains in the carpet. Their "bills and business" consisted of blackmailing the landlady, and terrorizing other tenants. Their "cleaning and courting" consisted of Jim from IT faking a relationship just to get into some poor bloke's head.

But Moran could never stop from saying "their".

Although they had their fights and disagreements, they were always together. An "I" always meant "we". They were inseperable. The criminal and his sniper. The Tiger and his Stripes.

But that doesn't mean they never fought.

* * *

"Dammit Jim, I'm a sniper - not a boyfriend!"

"C'mon Sebby, it would only be for a year or two!"

The destructive duo noisily made their way back into the flat, Sebastian locking the door behind.

"A year?! A fuckin year? Fuck, Jim! Ya need that long ofa vacation?!"

Jim shrugged. "I'll be working too, checking up on some...contacts." He took off his suit jacket, graimacing at the excessive blood. "Wellp, look likes this ones a goner." He said casually, tossing it aside.

"Maybe ya shouldn't have been so close to the explosion then." Sebastian retorted, picking up the discarded clothing off the couch.

"Not everybody gets to be perched high in a safe wee nest like you, Tiger." The criminal smirked at his sniper, jumping onto the couch, feet propped where the jacket was. "Besides, she might not have been dead."

"Not have been dead?! You practically strapped a stick o'dynamite to her and lit a match! How could anyone surbibe that?" Moran argued their most recent hit.

"Eh, we've seen people live through worse. Thats why I got you, isn't it? Little bit of 'air support'?" Moriarty kicked off his shoes, raised his hands behind his head, not looking at the other man.

"Flattery's not gettin ya anywhere Jim. We still gotta talk bout this." He deadpanned.

With an exasperated sigh, "There's nothing to talk about. I'll be leaving for a while, and I need you to do me a favor. You're simply acting like a teenage drama queen."

"Teenage -?!" Seb ran a hand through his sandy hair. "_You're faking your own death! Thats a fucking good excuse to be dramatic!" _The room fell silent at Sebs raise of voice and tone. They stayed there, air thick with tension - Sebastian staring wide-eyed, Moriarty not even bothering to look anywhere but the ceiling above.

"I really don't see what your problem is." Jims whisper was almost too quiet to hear.

"My _problem, " _Sebastian hated this. Hated admitting feelings to the 'psychopath'. Yet, being the homicidal maniacs right hand man, he knew damn well 'psychopath' was not an accurate description. "Is that _you," _he pointed towards Jim, " are _dying. _It may only be for two years, but you expect me to function, alone, all by myself, for two years while my boss - no, my fucking _best friend fuckin dies _just to _get away from me_." His voice was surprisingly low and steady, and his eyes were surprisingly wet. _Damn, I really am like a teenage drama queen. _"And you know I don't do well with people leaving. You fucking _know." _

He waited for a reply. He waited for what seemed like an eternity and a half. He watched the other man - his now confessed best friend - tense at his new title, and tighten at the confessions of Morans insecurities. The worst part? Moriarty did knwo his sniper's problem. Being neglected at a young age, holding desperately to anything that could be stubborn and staying in his life - and here he was, a supposed best friend and rock, leaving.

Seb watched for a reaction, only to get a fluttering of blinks, the other unable to comprehend what happened.

"Fuck you." He growled, turning away to leave. "Just fuck you."

"Seb-" Jim broke from his daze too late, sitting up and looking - _really looking - _at his sniper? Flatmate? ..._friend? _turn away in humiliation and anger. "Seb wait-"

He was cut off by a door slammed in his face/

Real mature. Locking himself away in the bedroom. (Yes only one, Jim never needed it - if he did he opted for the couch.)

He sighed, and crouched next to the door, knowing Seb well enough to know his Tiger was leaning against it low on the other side.

"C'mon Seb..." Jim began, trying -and failing- at comforting his friend. (Friend. Yeah. Friend sounds good.) The last time he dared try a comforting word was cheering Tiger up...last week? When Seb forced him into a movie night on their day off, staying up late to watch some popcultured animated film about sisterhood or something...Jim was too busy forcing himself to stay entertained, and trying not to tell Seb about the inevitable plot twist of the traitor Hans -

_thats it._

"Seb?" _God, why was he doing this? Its embarrasing and stupid and heaven knows he can't sing well..._

"...do you wanna hide a body?" He started out, in the childlike melody from the show.

"C'mon, lets go and maim.

They'll never see it anymore...

Blood's all over the floor -

Its starting to decay~!"

"You're my bloody buddy...

We won't get caught,

not for this homicide~

...do you wanna hide a body?" Getting into character (and proud of himself for improvising this verse) he pressed his mouth against the door to finish the stanza. "It doesn't have to be in one piece..."

He heard quiet snickering, feeling a childlike humor bubble up in him.

"Go away Jim." Sebastian called through the door, teasing along.

"Okay...bye..." Jim called back, falling silent with a small on his face, proud of his 'comfort'.

Silence followed.

No sound from the other side of the door.

* * *

Seb couldn't stop smiling. James Moriarty, consulting criminal, Scotland Yard's most wanted, _sang _to him. In his own special way, the attempt of comfort was perfect. Even if the lyrics were a wee bit twisted...

"Go away Jim." He called through the door, playing along.

"Okay...bye..." Jim called back, and Moran couldn't help but giggle, feeling better already.

Silence followed.

_No._

_No. He couldnt' have. Did Jim really take it so literally? No - it was part of the song Jim! Please, please don't leave don't leave me please oh please fod fucking dammit Jim!_

He quickly stood up, fear creeping up through him, his heart falling cold - _Did he really push away his...friend? God, no. Please._

"Jim-"He stood up quickly, throwing open the door, afraid of what may (or may not) lie behind it. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding at the sight of the criminal mastermind still there, leaning against the wall, waiting.

Moran swooped down to capture Moriarty in a hug, which was surprisingly returned. He was happy there - both of them - to sit in each other's arms, best friends to comfort one another, a bittersweet ending - no, haitus to an ongoing adventure.

Just the two of them, against the world.

How it's always been, how it always will be.

"Ya promise to come back?"

"Of course. I promise. You promise to miss me?" Jim whispered into Sebs hair, memorizing every detail of this moment - from the smell to the warmth to the breathing patterns - He needed this memory. They both did, in order to get through this 2 year break.

And 1.8 years later, Moran released the file sent to him, accessing and hacking every screen in the country. He smiled. His boss was back, and that bloody bastard had left a message just for him. Moriarty was always one for theatrics.

_Miss me?_


End file.
